Frank juggled coffee cups in his arm as he knocked on the door. Joe
jogged up the stairs behind him to stand next to Frank.
"What took you so long?" Frank asked as he pounded on the door for the third time.
"I ran into some coeds. They.detained me," he said with a grin on his face.
Frank frowned at Joe, then turned to knock again. The door never opened.
"Joe, I've been knocking for ten minutes now, and there's still no answer."
"Did you try the door?" Joe asked, stating the obvious.
"No, my hands are full, and I saw her lock it before we left," Frank answered.
"Well, maybe she went to an early breakfast or something?" Joe shrugged as he reached for the door knob. "Lo, and behold, it's open!" Joe pushed the door and caught Frank rolling his eyes.
The first thing Frank and Joe noticed was the disheveled appearance of the room.
"What in the world." Frank started when he stumbled on a tripped over box.
".happened?" Joe finished for him looking around the room. Clothes and objects were strewn everywhere, and the boys stared open mouthed at what they recognized as Nancy's belongings littering the floor.
That's when they saw the trail of red from behind the couch.
Oh my God, no! Frank thought as he immediately assured the worst. Dropping the coffees where he stood, no doubt adding to the ransacked mess, he ran over to behind the couch, Joe hot on his heels. They gasped when they saw what had been obscured from their view.
Nancy laid sprawled out on the floor, blood surrounding a gash hidden in her mane of titian hair. Pieces of a shattered glass vase surrounded her prone form, and Frank had to sweep glass shards out of her hair to see the wound.
"Joe, it's pretty bad," Frank grimaced as he hovered over her.
"How long do you think she's been like this?" he asked, slapping her wrists in an attempt to bring her around.
"I don't know," Frank replied, his forehead creased with worry. "This is a lot of blood."
"Head wounds bleed a lot," Joe replied automatically, still looking at Nancy's face. "Even so, if she has a concussion."
"And she's been like this all night." Frank filled in.
"This is not good," Joe finished, jumping to his feet. "I'm calling 911!" he yelled even on his way out the door to find a phone. Frank stayed with Nancy, holding her hand and willing her to wake up. She looked so pale, and he knew what it meant for someone with a concussion to go to sleep. They might never wake up. Nancy might never wake up.
"What took you so long?" Frank asked as he pounded on the door for the third time.
"I ran into some coeds. They.detained me," he said with a grin on his face.
Frank frowned at Joe, then turned to knock again. The door never opened.
"Joe, I've been knocking for ten minutes now, and there's still no answer."
"Did you try the door?" Joe asked, stating the obvious.
"No, my hands are full, and I saw her lock it before we left," Frank answered.
"Well, maybe she went to an early breakfast or something?" Joe shrugged as he reached for the door knob. "Lo, and behold, it's open!" Joe pushed the door and caught Frank rolling his eyes.
The first thing Frank and Joe noticed was the disheveled appearance of the room.
"What in the world." Frank started when he stumbled on a tripped over box.
".happened?" Joe finished for him looking around the room. Clothes and objects were strewn everywhere, and the boys stared open mouthed at what they recognized as Nancy's belongings littering the floor.
That's when they saw the trail of red from behind the couch.
Oh my God, no! Frank thought as he immediately assured the worst. Dropping the coffees where he stood, no doubt adding to the ransacked mess, he ran over to behind the couch, Joe hot on his heels. They gasped when they saw what had been obscured from their view.
Nancy laid sprawled out on the floor, blood surrounding a gash hidden in her mane of titian hair. Pieces of a shattered glass vase surrounded her prone form, and Frank had to sweep glass shards out of her hair to see the wound.
"Joe, it's pretty bad," Frank grimaced as he hovered over her.
"How long do you think she's been like this?" he asked, slapping her wrists in an attempt to bring her around.
"I don't know," Frank replied, his forehead creased with worry. "This is a lot of blood."
"Head wounds bleed a lot," Joe replied automatically, still looking at Nancy's face. "Even so, if she has a concussion."
"And she's been like this all night." Frank filled in.
"This is not good," Joe finished, jumping to his feet. "I'm calling 911!" he yelled even on his way out the door to find a phone. Frank stayed with Nancy, holding her hand and willing her to wake up. She looked so pale, and he knew what it meant for someone with a concussion to go to sleep. They might never wake up. Nancy might never wake up.